


try, try again

by empressearwig



Category: Hidden Legacy Series - Ilona Andrews
Genre: Attempted Bribery, F/M, Family, Wooing, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 10:42:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8976442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empressearwig/pseuds/empressearwig
Summary: Five times Mad Rogan tried to convince Nevada of his intentions and one time he succeeded





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Parhelion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Parhelion/gifts).



i. 

A bell tinkled above him, as Mad Rogan entered the bookstore. This was the sixth store he'd visited in the last two weeks, and improbably, all of them had offered him the exact same welcome.

The man behind the counter paled at the sight of him.

Years of using his perceived menace to his advantage kept him from sighing, but really. Did the man think Mad Rogan was really going to take the meager takings from his cash register? It was absurd.

"I'm looking for a copy of _Hexology_ ," he said, resting his hands on the counter. "The one by Stahl, not Milo. Do you have one?"

"Let me go check," the man squeaked, and bolted for the back room.

Once he was gone, Rogan did sigh, scrubbing his hands over his face. The past few weeks had been terrible and this was taking far too long. He knew he was right to take precautions from this being tracked back to him, both for her safety and because it would make Nevada insane, but staggering visits and locating different purchase points was taking far longer than he'd wanted.

She needed these resources yesterday. He knew how to obtain those resources. He was damn well going to make sure she got them, even if she'd never ask him for his help. That she wouldn't ask, only made him want to give it to her more.

If she thought her stubborn independence was a turn off, she had sorely misjudged his character.

The man came back, book clutched in trembling hands. He set it down and slid it in front of Rogan. "Will this be acceptable?"

Rogan picked the book up, thumbed through it to check to make sure it was intact. He didn't spot any obvious defects. "It will. How much?"

The man started to dissemble, and Rogan held up a hand to stop him.

"How much?"

The man named a price that might have made another person blink, but Rogan pulled out his wallet and set the cash down on the counter. "I was never here. Do we understand each other?"

The man nodded, almost eagerly. "Yes, sir. Never here. Yes, sir."

Rogan picked up the book and tucked it into his coat. He turned, and left the store, the same way he'd come, the goddamn bell tinkling over head one last time.

He'd test all the books he'd assembled for any malicious magic and then he'd send them. What she'd do with the information was entirely up to her.

He knew she'd meet his expectations. 

ii.

Mad Rogan rang the warehouse doorbell and waited.

In one hand he held a bouquet of flowers. In the other, he held a case containing a Thomas Carbine BE-70 Rifle. To some, it may have seemed like overkill, but Rogan wasn't a fool.

When you went after a dragon, you brought bait. 

The door opened, and on the other side stood Nevada's grandmother. Her eyes brightened at the sight of him. "Come courting?"

"No," said Rogan. He held out the flowers. "For you."

She didn't take them, but nodded her head towards the case. "And that?"

"Your daughter. She didn't strike me as the flowers type."

Grandma Frida laughed and finally took the flowers. She stepped back to let Rogan come in. "You might be surprised. Nevy's a lot like her mother, and we both know how she felt about your flowers."

"She gave those to a children's hospital, as I recall," Rogan said. He followed Grandma Frida down the hall, towards the family kitchen. "Was I supposed to infer that she liked them?"

"You seem like a smart man," Grandma Frida said. "You tell me." 

They reached the kitchen, and Penelope Baylor sat at the table, reading the newspaper. She looked up and narrowed her eyes, in a manner much like her daughter. "Mom, what is that man doing here?"

"He brought us presents, Penelope," Grandma Frida said. She nodded towards Rogan. "Go on, give it to her." To her daughter, she said, "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth."

With a smile, Rogan set the case on the table in front of Nevada's mother. "I saw this and thought of you."

"Hm," said Penelope. She opened the case, and for just a moment, Rogan saw the lust in her eyes before she masked it. "Is this the best you can do?"

"Consider it an opening salvo," Mad Rogan said. "Your daughter is not the only one that I intend to lay siege to. Fair warning."

He nodded towards Grandma Frida. "Enjoy, ladies."

He turned on his heel and headed back the way he'd come. 

When he came back, he'd bring bigger weapons.

iii.

Mad Rogan's phone rang while he was drinking his morning coffee. 

The number was one of those that he'd had Bug acquire, the numbers of all of Nevada's family members. He'd told himself that as long as he didn't know whose number was whose, it wasn't as creepy a request as he was sure that Nevada would think if she knew. 

He answered. "Hello?"

"Mad Rogan?" said the voice on the other end of the line. "This is Bern. Nevada's cousin?"

"Yes, I remember you, Bern," he said. He leaned back against the counters. "How can I help you this morning?"

"It's less about you helping and more about you not," Bern said, obviously hedging. "Is it possible--Nevada thinks--"

"Spit it out," said Mad Rogan. 

"Did you establish a scholarship that was only available to computer science students who worked for their family business and also helped support a younger sibling and who were residents of Houston?"

Mad Rogan was amused. He'd wondered how long it would take Nevada to trace that effort back to him. "And if I did?"

"Nevada is fairly adamant that I decline," Bern said. "And as she does control my paycheck from said family business, I think that I have to do as she's requested." He paused, as if considering whether or not to go on. Rogan did not interrupt. "It was a nice thought, though. Even she admitted that, in between cursing your name."

Now that was worth knowing. "Well, I'm disappointed to not be able to assist you in furthering your studies, Bern."

"Yes," said Bern. "I'm sure that you are and that no matter what Nevada thought you weren't trying to buy either my brain or her body."

Mad Rogan grinned. "She said that?"

"Surrounded by a lot of inventive cursing," Bern confirmed. "Anyway, thank you for the offer. It was a very nice gesture."

"Tell your cousin hello," said Mad Rogan. "I'll be in touch."

He hung up the phone and immediately starting plotting his next move.

iv.

When, in the middle of a stressful case, Mad Rogan asked Nevada if there was anything he could do to make her life easier, he hadn't really expected her to take him up on the offer. He certainly didn't expect her to assign him a task that involved any members of her family.

And yet here he was, in the middle of Nordstrom at Galleria IV, watching her teenage sisters try on prom dresses, without any form of support or supervision. 

"What do you think?" asked Arabella. 

She was the youngest Baylor sister, the one with Nevada's hair. She was wearing a short black dress that puffed out at the sides and was strapless. There was no way that the many armed women in her family were letting her out of the warehouse in that dress.

"No," said Mad Rogan.

She pouted a little, and looked back in the three-way-mirror. "Are you sure? I think it looks really good."

"I will not comment. But your sister and mother and grandmother--no, scratch your grandmother--will not approve. And you know it."

She looked at him from beneath her lashes. "Yes, but you're supposed to be getting on my good side, aren't you?"

Mad Rogan snorted. "At the expense of hers?"

The other sister emerged, the older one who looked nothing like either of her sisters. She was wearing something long and sparkly. Rogan didn't object to either of those things, but he was fairly certain he was supposed to object to just how low the vee at the front of the dress went.

"Don't get him in trouble," Catalina said. She smoothed her dress down and studied her reflection in the mirror. "I need him to pay for college a lot sooner than you do."

"No," he said.

"Is that a no to the dress or paying for college?" Catalina asked.

"Either. Both," said Mad Rogan. "Your sister would kill me and I already tried paying for your cousin. There were objections."

"Yes, but you're going to marry our sister before then, aren't you?" Arabella said, beaming at him. "She'll have to let you then."

"It's Nevada, though," said Catalina. "She probably won't, just because."

Mad Rogan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "If I promise to convince your sister that I should pay for college, if we do ever get married, can you both pick dresses that you know your sister and mother will let you wear so we can get the hell out of here? I'll even throw in shoes."

The sisters looked at each other, doing a freaky form of non-verbal communication that Mad Rogan could only assume came from having siblings. Arabella nodded at her sister.

"Deal," said Catalina. 

"Thank god," said Mad Rogan.

v. 

Mad Rogan was prepared to do many things to ingratiate himself to Nevada's relatives, but he was not prepared to learn a musical instrument. He was sure that the effort involved would be more impressive than spending money, but nevertheless, it was a line and he wasn't crossing it. 

But that did not mean he couldn't offer to provide Leon with lessons with a qualified instructor. And so he did.

To his surprise, Nevada allowed Leon to accept the lessons. This acquiescence confused him, right up until it was time for Leon's first recital, to which Rogan received an invitation to join the assorted Baylor clan in the first row.

Sitting there, though, Mad Rogan understood.

Leon was tone deaf.

He leaned over to whisper in Nevada's ear, enjoying the way she shivered at his breath against her skin. "Why?"

She shrugged, just a little, and turned ever so slightly to better face him. "He wanted to learn. They don't get to do so many things that they want that I'm going to deny them when the opportunity falls in their lap."

"You're a good cousin," he said. He reached out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "I hope they all know that."

"Shhh," she said turning back to look at the stage. "Listen to the music."

Mad Rogan obeyed. 

vi.

It was Nevada's birthday, and Grandma Frida invited him for family dinner. Mad Rogan was fairly sure that Nevada did not know about the invitation, and was certain that she didn't when she opened the door.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. She was some mix of surprised, defensive, and covetous. Rogan put the last down to the bouquet of carnations he held in his hand.

He offered them to her, but she didn't take them. He reached out, took her hand in his and wrapped her fingers around the stems. "Say thank you, Nevada."

"Thank you," she said. "But really, what are you doing here?"

He stepped around her and into the warehouse. "I was invited for your birthday dinner. It's down this way, isn't it?"

He felt her narrowed eyes at his back as he started down the hall. 

"Grandma," she muttered.

"I would never betray a confidence," Mad Rogan said, as they rounded their way into the kitchen. "What are we having tonight?"

"Tacos," announced Catalina, from atop one of the counters. "Hi Mad Rogan."

"Hello," he said. He nodded to all of the assembled members of Nevada's family, who were spread around the kitchen. "And to all of you."

"Those flowers need water," said Penelope, to her daughter. To him, she just nodded.

It was an offer of detente, and he wasn't foolish enough to turn it down.

"Has Nevada had her gifts yet?" he asked.

Nevada raised her eyebrows at him. "The flowers weren't my gift?"

He grinned. Deliberately, calculatingly, grinned. 

Nevada stepped back. She more than anyone in the room recognized that look.

"There are children present," Penelope said mildly. "Just a reminder."

"Let them learn," said Grandma Frida.

"I think I want them as a shield," Nevada muttered.

From his pocket, Mad Rogan produced an envelope and handed it to Nevada. "See, nothing nefarious."

With wary eyes, she opened it. She withdrew the sheet of paper inside and read the contents. 

When she was done, Nevada started to laugh. She kept laughing, much to the increasing alarm of her mother.

"Squirrels," she managed to say, waving the paper. "Squirrels!"

Arabella grabbed the paper from Nevada's hand. "A donation has been made in your name to the Society for the Prevention of Squirrel Cruelty." She looked at Mad Rogan. "Really?"

"Squirrels don't seem like very good wooing material," said Grandma Frida. She gave him a critical look. "I thought you had better stuff."

He shrugged. "Squirrels are very important to Nevada."

"Yes," Nevada finally managed to say. "Very, very important." She wiped at her eyes. "Mom, is dinner almost ready?"

"We can eat now," Penelope said. "Why?"

"Good," Nevada said. She reached over, took Rogan's hand in hers. "I'm going out after. Don't wait up."

Grandma Frida let out a wolf whistle. Bern looked pained. Her sisters cheered. Leon was confused. Penelope, resigned.

Mad Rogan curled his fingers around Nevada's and did not let go.


End file.
